by Ann Benson
After a quick look at Caroline the old woman realized it would be unwise to leave her here and go ahead alone to check things out. She leaned over and said, “Won’t do to have anyone poking around in this cart while I’m otherwise engaged, now, will it?” The situation worried her; there seemed to be no alternative to proceeding. To suddenly turn and double back now might arouse more suspicion than proceeding, if one of the Biocops had already noticed her. Naturally, they’d want to know who was in the cart, and why. If she simply went ahead, they might be too distracted by their immediate task to pay much attention to her.
As she approached the Biocops, the reason for their presence became obvious. The body of a man, obviously a Marginal, was lying across the sidewalk. They were examining the body, and had rerouted traffic around their parked van; but worse yet, the body was obstructing her path on the sidewalk, and she would have to figure out some way around him.
There was simply too much traffic to try using the road. She could stop and stay where she was and wait for the Biopol van to take the body away, but considered Caroline’s condition and rejected that idea. Time was growing short.
She walked on, the rusty cart squeaking inharmoniously as she neared the obstruction on the sidewalk. She was terrified but would not allow it to show, for then they would certainly suspect her. Summoning all her courage, she wrapped her shawl dramatically around one shoulder and lifted her chin proudly. She approached one of the Biocops and said to him, “See here, young man, this carcass is in my way, and I’ve got appointments to keep! Boys still help old ladies get across the road, don’t they?”
Her brazen entreaty stunned the two burly cops, and they were caught off-guard. One came up to the cart and pushed the papers aside, peering at Caroline as the woman stood and watched, trying desperately to keep her shaking under control. He looked up at her and straight into her eyes. She summoned all the steel she could find in her soul and said, “Sleepin’ one off, she is. Guess I didn’t bring her up right.” At that moment Caroline groaned, as if to verify her false mother’s claim.
The scruffy woman used that groan to her advantage. “All right, now,” she cooed to her charge, “you’ll just toss up that bad stuff and we’ll be off again.” She looked at the nearest cop and said, “You’d be wise to stand back. She’s a hurler. Always has been. You don’t want to mess up that pretty green suit.” And she was right; it was the last thing the cop wanted. “Messing up the suit” required a mountain of explanatory paperwork and an extended sterilization session, and no one liked that regimen.
Suddenly two of her rough companions, bedraggled saviors, appeared from either side of her and made a fuss about helping. Their confusing arrival was just the distraction she needed. The Biocops turned their attention away from Caroline and looked warily at the sudden congregation of Marginals. Together they lifted the cart up and over the fallen man, chattering amiably as they did so. The woman, though surprised by their abrupt performance, played along with them and made a great show of thanking them for their help. Then the helpers disappeared just as suddenly as they’d shown up.
Seeing an opportunity for a clean escape, the woman launched into a crazed narrative of gratitude, proclaiming her thanks to everyone in the immediate area, including several disgusted passersby, who hurried suspiciously past. Leaving the cart momentarily, she pranced up to the two cops and said, “Give us a kiss, now, and I’m off!” They both raised up their hands in protest and waved her away. Feigning indignation, she stomped off and returned to the cart, leaving behind two shaken but relieved green-suited men.
She shook violently as she pushed the cart away from the scene. So close, too close.…
Up ahead was the last hill, the hardest part of their journey, and already she was exhausted. She stopped and took a swig from her water bottle, then poured a little over Caroline’s face to cool her. It was the best she could do for the young woman, since she could no longer force her to drink. Up the hill she started with a heavy sigh, wishing all the while for a miraculous return to her unsullied youth. The effort of walking uphill made her feel quite warm, so she removed her filthy shawl and placed it over Caroline. It gave one more protective layer against the prying eyes of passersby, some of whom glanced curiously into the cart. She didn’t suppose that Caroline could feel much of anything right about now, nor would she have been aware of or concerned about the deficiencies in her personal grooming. The woman looked back one more time, wishing she’d covered more distance from the bridge, then turned and continued her groaning progress.
She was just leaving their field of vision when a third Biocop came out of the van with a color print in his gloved hand. He passed it among his peers, one of whom looked more carefully at it than the other. He looked in the direction he’d last seen the ragged woman go, but didn’t see her. He gave the print back to his comrade and went back into the van, where he typed a quick message to Lieutenant Rosow, who’d transmitted the image. He pressed a few buttons on the computer keyboard and sent the message off, indicating that he’d had a possible sighting of the quarry.
Panting and groaning, the woman was finally forced to stop pushing. Within a few moments a member of her clan appeared and took the handle of the cart in her stead. Before setting off on the remainder of the journey, he gave her a hug and wished her well. As soon as he started pushing the cart away, another Marginal came and started leading the woman, who was now both shivering and sweating with fever, to a place where she would be safe. She leaned wearily against him and together they walked away.
The new Marginal pushed onward. Not far ahead there was an old iron gate, and beyond that the barren field, where Caroline and Janie had shivered in the darkness. He moved forward with great energy and resolve, elated that the task would soon be complete and that he had played such an important part in its completion. To anyone watching him he would have seemed far too thin to have the strength for this task, but he felt inexplicably joyful and inspired, and he performed admirably.
He looked down at his cargo and said, “I guess there’s a bit of fire left in me yet. Now, what shall we do about you?”
He opened the iron gate and pushed the cart through it onto the field. “This is going to be bumpy,” he apologized. “You might even like the cobblestones better.”
But Caroline was lost in a feverish dream. She was in a wooden cart being pulled across a muddy field by a team of worn horses, and she could feel the drops of mud splash up on her hand, which was extended over the edge of the cart. In that hand was some unidentified precious object; she held on to it with what little strength she had left.
As this dream wound to a close, her Marginal courier lifted her out of the cart and laid her gently on a dry rise in the ground. He positioned Caroline slightly upright against a rock, hoping that the elevation would keep her from drowning in the fluid that was near to filling her lungs. He covered her with newspapers again, then laid the woman’s small brown cloth sack beside her.
Having completed his mission, he turned the cart around. It was much easier to push without the burden of Caroline, and he moved quickly toward the perimeter of the field. He wondered how long it would be before he, too, felt the chills and sweats, as his woman friend now did; he wondered, too, if others would soon join him in his pain. He stopped momentarily and looked back at Caroline, wondering if saving her was worth the cost to him and his community.
“Guess I’ll never know,” he said to the empty night. His debt to Sarin’s mother paid, he ditched the cart behind a stand of bushes. In a few minutes he had disappeared completely into the London darkness, heading north toward the river and the comfort of the bridge.
Twenty-One
Upon returning to Windsor, Alejandro quickly organized and packed the few belongings he had brought with him when he first arrived. Everything he would take with him to his new home could be easily transported on one additional horse hitched to the saddle of his own mount, and still there would have been room for more.
&
nbsp; With the hour of departure approaching and his readiness assured, he began the sad task of saying farewell to the people with whom he had lived so closely for the trying months of their confinement. He went among the servants, giving to each one a gold coin, for in all of his travels he had not spent a hundredth of what his father had given him at the start of his journey.
His obligation to the staff complete, Alejandro walked slowly toward Isabella’s suite in the southwest section of the castle, deliberately delaying his arrival so he might postpone the inevitable sadness of leaving Adele until they were reunited in Canterbury.
Isabella herself was the first to greet him. He bowed to her flawlessly, having finally perfected that courtly ritual. The princess grinned and clapped lightly.
“Monsieur, your improvement is to be commended! We admire the progress you have made in acquiring our customs. Not all exotic foreigners learn so well as you have! And now you shall leave Windsor. It is a pity you shall not be able to use your skills here.”
Exotic? he thought. Would her snipes never cease? When he and Adele were married, would this snide princess not be like a sister to him, in view of her closeness to his intended? I shudder at the very thought! He suppressed his dislike of her yet another time and said, “Thank you, Highness, but you give me too much credit. Were it not for the selfless and diligent tutelage of the fine lady at your side, I should have failed miserably, and you would forever be laughing at my clumsy attempts.”
Kate peeked out from behind Isabella’s skirt, where she had been pretending to hide, and looked up at her sister.
“Isabella, may I give it to him now?”
“Oh, yes, all right. God curse your impatience! I have yet to bid the good doctor farewell, but go ahead.”
Kate stepped forward and held out a rectangular wooden box, which Alejandro accepted with great drama, emitting many “Oohs” and “Ahs” as accompaniment to his close examination of the gift.
“How beautiful it is! And what fine craftsmanship. But what can be inside?” Fumbling momentarily, he found the latch and eased the cover off the base of the box, marveling at the snug fit. He caught his breath in surprise. Smiling at Kate, he said, “The box alone would have been far too generous, but look at the treasures I find within!” One by one he removed each exquisitely carved chess piece and examined it minutely.
“You are pleased, monsieur?”
He scooped up the child in his arms, saying, “I shall be more pleased if you will visit me in my new home sometime to teach me all the secrets of successful play. This trousse must be used by only the best players, in keeping with its own fineness. If you teach chess as well as you do the courtly bow, I shall soon be winning our matches.”
The child hugged him tightly, and whispered in his ear, “I shall miss you so! Please, monsieur, can I not go with you now?”
He set her down gently, and saw the tears filling her eyes, and thought, Indeed, I shall miss her as well. “Who knows how long it will be before my home is suitably outfitted to receive a young lady of your stature?” he said. “You must allow me adequate time to prepare. We shall see each other at Canterbury, and discuss it then.”
Isabella was uncharacteristically patient while Alejandro gave his attention to Kate, but now she reclaimed it. “I thank you for seeing me and my family safely through the scourge, and although you have been a plague yourself at times, I am deeply indebted to you for the excellence of your work.”
Alejandro had the surprising sense that her expression was genuine. Then her kind tone darkened, and after looking around to ascertain that their conversation was private, the princess continued, “I advise you to take care that Adele is not hurt, for you shall quickly incur my displeasure if any harm should befall her at your hands. You shall not be treated lightly in that event.”
And what should I say to such a preposterous statement? How could she even think that I would do anything to bring Adele pain? Why, I have already given up my faith to be with her! What more can I possibly do? “Adele shall never want while I am by her side,” he said simply.
“Take care that you speak the truth, Physician, or it will be yourself who is wanting.” Then she raised her voice again, conspicuously, and added, “I bid you a safe journey, and may God protect you. I know that Lady Throxwood would bid you good-bye, and I shall send her out to you. See that you take your leave gently, for she is a woman of deep sensibility.” She turned and made a grandiose exit. Alejandro looked around, but no one would meet his glance.
I must leave this room, for I cannot remain another minute in it. He searched for a sympathetic face, just as Nurse came through the door.
“Nurse,” he said with the hint of a plea in his tone, “please tell Lady Throxwood that I shall await her on the west balcony. I require some air, for the room has grown stuffy.”
When Adele found him, he was gazing off into the distance, admiring the lush green of the English countryside. When he heard her approach he turned and smiled, saying, “Even after the chill of winter I find the coolness of your spring quite pleasant. At this time of year in Aragon it would be quite warm, and the greenery would already be near to browning.”
She came up next to him and slipped her arm through his. She breathed deeply of the spring air. “It is a pleasure to breathe the cool air, especially after our long winter ordeal. This year the freshening of spring and the greening of the countryside seem unusually lovely and welcome.”
With a loving look he said to her, “Once again we are in agreement. Can we also agree to meet in Canterbury, where I shall petition the king for the great honor of taking you to wife?”
“My love, you need not even have asked.”
“In Canterbury, then.”
“Yes,” she agreed, “in Canterbury.”
Alejandro mounted his lead horse, and checked to see that the packhorse was secured to follow. He rounded the corner of the wooden stable building, heading for the gate. Before him in the courtyard was an unusually large number of soldiers, all seemingly awaiting someone’s arrival. He had not heard that an important party was expected today, and was surprised by the throng of milling guards.
One soldier saw him, and shouted, “Attention!” and the remainder quickly formed two opposing parallel lines, about a man’s height apart. Alejandro was quite impressed by the skill with which these troops put themselves into perfect order. He had only once seen them perform as a uniform fighting force, when the pitiable adversary was their doomed comrade Matthews.
He halted the horses, and stood his ground, watching to see what happened now that they had so ceremonially formed up. Who can this important visitor be? he wondered.
And then he saw that the entire company was looking directly at him. Sir John Chandos, Alejandro’s erstwhile fellow jailer, stood at the end of the line, and waved him through.
As he rode between the lines of rigid soldiers, each man took out his sword and raised it up to meet the sword of the man facing him, creating a tunnel of flashing swords through which Alejandro slowly rode. Stunned, he gawked awkwardly at the men who honored him with their arched salute. And as he neared the end of the tunnel where Sir John waited, the soldiers broke their silence and began to cheer and whistle, and the knight himself bowed deeply to Alejandro.
“On behalf of the men who serve under me, I thank you for saving our lives, and for giving us the opportunity to serve our king in France once again. Godspeed, Physician; may Providence guide your way.”
He had never known such exhilaration. He waved his hand back at the lines of soldiers, who cheered lustily in response, then turned his horses away through the gate and headed north. He was still within hearing when the portcullis groaned to a close on his time at Windsor Castle.
Riding north on the Stepney Road, tired and dusty and worn from the hard travel, Alejandro began to wonder if his holdings were far enough away to be a form of banishment. He was considering stopping for the night when he finally came upon the set of landmarks that Sir J
ohn had described in his directions. Now he knew it would be only a short distance, and he resolved to finish it quickly.
He nearly passed his “estate” by without notice, for the road was badly overgrown from months of neglect. So, too, was the courtyard; there was plenty of growth for the horses to graze on. I shall live here, he thought, as he slowly opened the door; this is my home. It creaked open on rusty hinges, and he entered cautiously. Out of the musty darkness a bat flew erratically past him, causing him to drop quickly to the floor, where he crouched nervously for a time, hoping to avoid further contact with the evil little creatures. Dear God, You have seen me through many months of plague unharmed. Please do not sneer at me now by allowing the bat’s foul drooling malady to take me out of this world. It would be too ironic, too unbearably cruel, after all he had survived.
To which God should this prayer be directed? he wondered.
“Well,” he said aloud, needing only to hear a voice, “perhaps one or the other of You will grace me with survival of this night. Then tomorrow I shall see what needs to be done.”
He laid out a blanket on the hard surface of a large table in the great room, for he dared not sleep in any bed, should he find one, before seeing to its cleanliness. There would be time enough tomorrow to explore, he knew, and to begin settling into his new home, but now he needed rest.
That night his dream of Carlos Alderón returned, and though the giant blacksmith had not disturbed Alejandro’s peace in some time, his reappearance was so clear and real that it seemed as if he had never left, not even for one night. Again, the massive man dragged his shrouds behind him, and again, Matthews grinned at his side, the weird percussion of his clicking arrow shafts accompanying the ghoulish chase. But this time a new horror was added to Alejandro’s unconscious turmoil: the pale ghost of Adele, attired in the bloody remnants of bridal finery, rode behind them in a rickety cart, which bumped along the rutted road, jarring loose the dead blossoms of her bouquet.
